Quarter to one
by thenopetrain
Summary: After House takes one of his pranks to far, he is left to pick up the pieces, albiet, grudgingly... I SUCK AT SUMMARIES! x x House/Wilson friendship Huddy but no fluff yet just cause.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own the show of House, all credit for characters and personalities go to David Shore and the owners of the hit fox series. *don'tsueme!*

The night was a cold one. Harsh winter winds spiraled the downing snow in flurries outside Dr. House's office window. His startlingly blue eyes peeked out into the evening, eyebrows furrowing into a glare as he glimpsed the ice accumulating near the edges of the window pane. He was thinking about how difficult it was going to be to make it to his car, how embarrassing it would be to slip on a patch of ice in the parking lot. His tired eyes pulled away from the midnight scenery to glance back at the emptiness of his office space. Was it already that late? His gaze wandered towards the clock on the opposite wall expertly; Quarter to one. His index finger and thumb came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, rubbing the corners of his eyes in order to wake himself up. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, House produced his life-line. Popping the white top of the bottle, he rattled out two Vicodin and popped them into the back of his throat. The familiar, bitter sting of the pills being swallowed dry seemed to calm him and for a moment he just watched the seconds tick by before a shadow loomed behind the closed curtains and a knock on the glass door rang in his ears. Dr. James Wilson's boyish face peered in through the glass, one hand raised to his eyes as he tried to make out the figure of his best friend through the din. House placed a hand under his right leg and hopped up out of his chair to limp over towards the door, unlocking the barrier between him and his colleague.

"You're still here?" asked Wilson through a yawn, his hand rising towards his mouth in the process. House hadn't even turned around at the sound of his friend's voice, hadn't much cared that the worried note in his voice had been directed plainly to his own lack of sleep over the past couple of days.

"Obviously." House's normally sarcastic voice was more disdainful. _Oh God here we go..,_ Raged the Diagnostician's mind as he stared coldly at Wilson, trying to discern why his one and only friend was still not saying anything.

"Is this going to turn into a conversation?" House's irritable, sarcastic voice growled from the dark, trying to feed off of more than just the clue of silence.

"Do I need a reason to come sit in my best friend's office?" Wilson's challenging voice was half-heartedly trying to avoid the topic that had shadowed them all day.

"You always have a reason," House said, "especially at ten minutes to one."

"You can't just leave it the way you did." _Finally!_ House rolled his eyes dramatically as Wilson began the conversation they had had a million times during the day. In a matter of seconds House had grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, clutched his cane in his right hand, and was limping as fast as a cripple could towards the door.

"You know what you did was- where?" Wilson's voice faded into blissful silence as the glass door eased shut. House's face was nearly pressed up against the glass looking in on his friend and making gestures towards his ears, his key already twisting the lock from the outside. He was mouthing something like 'what? I can't hear you! Door!' with a feigned, apologetic shrug, he turned and walked away, the keys swinging around his finger. Wilson's subdued voice vanished into mumbles as he fiddled with the lock from the inside and pulled the swinging door open as the door to the elevators closed. The last thing visible was House waving, an infamous smirk playing on his lips.

The door to the elevator opened and out popped House's head, peeking around the corners fully expecting an out of breath Wilson to crash out of the stairwell. A few seconds passed and the automatic doors to the elevators bumped into his shoulder and then retreated back again. His eyebrows rose up curiously and still there was no movement except for the security guard making his rounds. Skeptical looks passed between the two before House stepped out of the elevator and shouldered his jacket onto his back.

"_Damn it_." He cursed under his breath. He had forgotten his backpack in the office during his quick escape. It didn't matter, he couldn't go back now after his brilliant ruse. He kept walking, deciding it would still be there in the morning. _Unless Wilson steals it for leverage_. Unhappily walking into the frigid parking lot, House fiddled with the motorcycle keys in his pocket, aiming to stick them in the ignition once he had made it safely across the icy turf in between the side walk and the parking spot reserved especially for him. _The Should-be-closer-parking-spot_. Suddenly something very cold hit his shoulder, causing bits of snow to explode up and into his face. The diagnostician pursed his lips, biting back retaliation as he turned and spotted Wilson some feet behind him, standing there like he was ready to tackle him.

"Mature." Remarked House before he turned around after making a facetious, disapproving face at his friend, and walked the rest of the way to his car. By then Wilson had nearly caught up to him, being close enough to not yell as he spoke.

"That was extreme, House, even for you. You think she enjoys it when you run amuck in her hospital? When you blatantly try to piss her off for no reason?" By this time, Wilson was worked up and liking it. From House's expression Wilson was either A) getting on his nerves or B) finally pounding some sense into that thick skull of the doctor attempting to ignore him while getting on his bike. Just as House was about to rev the throttle, Wilson's hand caught the edge of his left handle bar, registering a glare from the diagnostician that said 'seriously?'; of which made Wilson's hand quickly retreat into his coat pocket. The roar of the motorcycle's engine sounded around the time Wilson opened his mouth again.

"You have to apologize. House you have to!"

"No. I don't." House yelled over the noise of his bike and snapped his wrist down. The bike's response was to immediately squeal its tires as they tried to get a hold of some traction before it sped off into the night.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*so sorry it's short but the chapters will get longer 3 R&R or just read. I'll be writing more either way. OH YA! and it's my first for this site. If you have problems with it feel free to critisize, i'm not touchy about dissing and it always leaves room for improvement. By the way, you can call me Hobs. I realize my username is a little....egotistical/arrogant but it was the only one available and I ran with it. xD


End file.
